


Demon

by White Queen Writes (fhartz91)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 11:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20692700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/White%20Queen%20Writes
Summary: Crowley doesn’t shove Aziraphale up against the wall for calling him ‘nice’. It happens after he calls him something else. And the result ends up being much different.





	Demon

“For Heaven’s sake, Crowley!” Aziraphale storms down the hallway and out into the sunlight with the demon trailing behind him. “I’ve known you for over 6000 years and I still can’t believe you sometimes!”

“I take it that’s not the way you would have gone about things?”

“No! It’s definitely not the way I would have gone about things! You can’t just go around hypnotizing people!”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s this little thing God gave the humans called _free will_. We should at least allow them their right to exercise it before we decide to deprive them of it!”

“_I_ never bestowed _free will_ on anyone,” Crowley mocks. “Whether humans have it or whether they don’t, that’s not my fault, angel.”

“But it should be your concern, _demon_.”

A beat of silence goes by. Aziraphale doesn’t notice right away as humans race about, shooting at one another all around them. A second later, a venomous, “Excuse me!?” strikes his ear and a hand grabs him by the shoulder, clamping down like an iron vice and yanking him backward with such speed, he can’t be certain his feet are even touching the ground anymore. He feels himself tossed bodily up against a wall, back impacting the brick before his mind can process how or why. It startles him, but it doesn’t frighten him. Not really. After all, this is Crowley. Even at his worst, Aziraphale has never felt anything but safe around him.

What Crowley is doing now, this show of force, is more bluster than a legitimate threat.

But now Aziraphale has to figure out what he did that made Crowley _this_ angry.

“_What_ did you say?” Crowley growls, bunching Aziraphale’s lapels in his fists and bearing white fangs an inch from his face.

“When?” Aziraphale replies calmly. “Be more specific, please. It’s been a long day.”

“That name. What did you jussst call me?”

Aziraphale’s brow wrinkles as he thinks, searching their conversation of the past few minutes to determine what he said that could have offended him so. “I believe I called you a demon.”

“No. You didn’t call me _a demon_. You called me _demon_. There’sss a differencssse.”

Aziraphale’s brows pop up. “Is there?”

“Yesss.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale thinks on it again, contemplating the implications of using the word as an adjective as opposed to a moniker, wondering why that should change its meaning. “Only slight, I imagine. Why in the Devil are you so upset?”

Crowley’s kneejerk rage wavers, morphs into something akin to confusion, but it burns bright in his eyes regardless. “I … I’m not … I …” His grip on Aziraphale’s coat loosens but only momentarily. He curls his fingers into the lapels again, pressing the angel harder into the wall. “Grrr! Go ahead, angel! Sssay it again! I _dare_ you!”

Aziraphale tilts his head, thoroughly intrigued by this reaction. He’s definitely not looking to provoke his demon friend, and he’s not interested in playing with fire, especially not with all the intrigue they’re currently wrapped up in. But he’s far too curious an angel to let this go. “_Demon_.”

Crowley’s lips twist into a snarl. He pushes Aziraphale with enough force that Aziraphale thinks Crowley could possibly shove him through the wall. But where he looks like he might punch Aziraphale in the face, Crowley kisses him instead, slipping a hand between the angel’s head and the brick wall so he can bruise his lips without knocking him cold - hard enough to take his breath away. Where his mouth goes, his body follows, leaning his weight against Aziraphale, pinning him with his hips and chest, and his grip on his coat goes slack.

When Crowley comes back to himself, realizes he’s not only kissed Aziraphale but in front of dozens of humans wielding guns, he backs away. Aziraphale stares at him, stunned but mildly amused, and shakes his head.

“Wha---why?” Aziraphale asks.

“I … I don’t know _why_. It just …”

Aziraphale grins. “It turns you on?”

Crowley clears his throat, his expression going from unrestrained rage to embarrassed and flustered. “I … nghk … I don’t … mmm … possibly …”

“That’s good to know …” Aziraphale leans forward, catches Crowley’s lips in a soft, chaste kiss, with just a hint of angelic power behind it to soothe Crowley’s nerves “… _demon_.”


End file.
